The Carbon advocate. [volume] (Lehighton, Pa.) 1872-1924, 1887-05-21
A DAY IN THE pAMrrLl DoRIA
by HARRIET nEEcnER srowI


Though the hills are cold and snowy,
And the wind drives chill to-day,
My heart goes back TO sprlng-tilne,
Far, far in the past away.
And see quaint old city,
Weary and worn and brown,
Where tie spring and the birds are so early,
And the sun in such light goes down.
I remember that old-tIines villa
Where our afternoons went by,
Where the suns of March flushed warmly.
Aud spring was IN earth and sky.
Out of the mouldering city,
Wondering, old and gray
We sped, with 4 lightsome heart-thrill,
For sunny, gladstone day
For a revel of fresh spring vertlure,
For race mid sprlngmg flowers,
For vision Of FLASHING fountains,
OF birds and blossomlng bowers.
There were violet banks in the shadows,
Yiolets white and blue;
And world of bright anemones,
- That over the terrace CREW.
Blue and orange and purple,
Rosy and yellow and white,
Rising In rainbow bubbles,
Streaklng the lawns with light.
And down from the old s,one-pine trees,
Those far-oiT islands of air,
The birds are singing the tidings
ORA joyful revel mp there.
And now for the grand old fountains,
Tossing their silvery spray
Those fountains, so quaint and so many,
That are leaping and singiugall day.
Those fountains of strange weird sculpture,
With lichens and moss oergrown,
Are they marble grceming in moss wreaths,
Or moss-wreaths whitening to stone?
Down many wild, dim pathway
We ramble from morning till noon;
We linger, unhceding the hours,
Till evening comes all to soon.
And from out the lex alleys,
Where lengthening shadows play,
We look on the dreamy Campagna,
All glowing with setting day.
All melting In bands of purple,
In swathings and foldings OF gold,
In ribbons of azure and lilac,
Like prlncely banner unrolled.
And the smoke of each distant cottage,
And the flash of each villa white,
Shines out with an opal glimmer,
Like gems in a caSket of light.
And the dome of old st. Peters
With strange translucence giows,
I In t.afsrh AZ k,,N, l.I. q
Floating in waves OF rose.
In trance of dreamy vagueness,
We, gazing and yearning, behold
That city beheld by the prophet,
Whose walls were transparent gold.
And, dropping all solemn and slowly,
To halOw the softening spell,
There falls on the dying twilight
The Ave Maria bell.
With mournful. motherly softness,
With weird and weary care,
That strange and apcent city
Seems calling the nations to prayer.
And the words that of old the angel
To the mother of Jesus brought
Rise like new evangel,
~ nHlloW We lrdHce OI our tnOuSnt,
With the smoke Of the evening incense
Our thoughts are ascending, then,
To Mary, tlle mother OF Jesus,
To Jesus, the Master of men.
o city of prophets and martyrs!
o slrines of the saintcd dead!
When, when shall the living day-spring
Once more on your towers be spread?
When lie who is meek and lOwly
Shall rule in those lOrdly halls,
And shall stand and feed as shepherd
The Gotk which his mercy calls
y, then TO those noble churches.
To picture and statue and gem,
To the pageant of solemn Worship,
Shall the meaning come back again.
And this strange and ancient city,
In that reign of his truth and love,
Shall be what it seems IN the twilight,
Tile tyne of that CITY aboyp